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His beautiful features harden. “Of course, it’s relevant. I insist on birth control.”
I blink. Wow, control freak central. Is he really that against paying for maternity leave? In my case it isn’t even an issue. I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone a sex life.
I’m now looking at him like he’s grown hooves, genuinely baffled. “Uh…why?”
Now he’s looking at me like I’m an idiot. “I think that should be obvious, no?”
I frown, but don’t reply. Best not to even press the discussion. This interview was over thirty seconds—at the most—after it began.
His gaze is on me again, hot, intense, and I’m paralyzed by his brilliant aquamarine stare. I almost have to remind myself to breathe.
His mouth opens slightly, and the papers crackle as his fist tightens at his side. “You may remove your clothes now.”
I blink, hesitating for a slight moment before even comprehending what he’s asking. I feel like I’m under some sort of strange spell that slows all my reactions.
“Um. What?”
Chapter 2
On Your Knees
He speaks again, his words slow and deliberate, edged with that erotic, almost otherworldly accent. “No need to be shy, Miss Swanson. If you get the contract, we’ll be fucking, after all.”
His words have a strange affect on me—confusion is at the forefront, followed by yet more confusion. Had I heard him correctly or was I having some type of aural hallucination? Or was this man just a douchebag?
“What?” As in—What. The. Everliving. Fuck.
He seems mildly amused by my confusion. “You’ll have to get used to my language, as well. I speak plainly. The contract is for a mistress—a regular sexual partner. There will be fucking…and a lot of it.” He concludes with a grin and then a nod. Again, his eyes fix on the top buttons of my blouse, as if waiting for me to rip it open for him.
But the words contract and fucking and mistress shock me, and I gape at him, horrified.
What the hell have I walked into?
I step back abruptly, my knees knocking together and my heels slipping across the glossy stone floor. He follows me, still maintaining a distance, but it pushes me to take another step away from him.
Except this time, my foot comes down on air—I’ve hit the steps into the sunken living room without realizing. Losing my balance, I feel myself go over—probably destined to splat and bang my head on the glass coffee table. That’s all she wrote.
But the man—Evan’s—reflexes are lightning fast, and through a blur, I see him move quick enough to hook a powerful arm around my waist and save me from what would probably have been severe injury—or at least severe humiliation.
He jerks my body back up, against his, and for the first time I’m aware—though I’d suspected—that his body is rock hard beneath that suit.
He holds me tight against him for long moments, and those stunning eyes capture my own. Everything is still. There is silence all around us—a silence so loud that it roars. All I can hear are my own rushed breaths and the wildly beating heart in my throat and at my temple.
“Thank—thank—”
He shushes me, placing a large finger against my lips. “Are you alright?” he asks, and with his finger against my lips, all I can do is nod, wide-eyed, like a child.
His eyes hold mine captive as he tilts his finger slightly, using it to outline my lips. His touch is electric, burning me like fire. My lips tingle under his touch, quivering against his finger. His eyes leave mine, only to follow where his finger is going as, quickly, he changes from his index finger to his thumb, tracing my mouth again.
And I’m melting beneath his touch as if he’s casting a spell on me. His thumb flexes, tugging at my lower lip, as if asking permission, and without even thinking, I open my mouth. As I knew it would, his thumb pushes inside, first to the knuckle, then entering completely. At the same time, he’s redirecting us, putting my back against the full length window—although whether it’s for support to help me stand or to trap me there, I couldn’t know.
His thumb pushes deeper inside my mouth, all the way to the lower knuckle. The tip touches the back of my throat. And though he doesn’t say a word, when his eyes change, so subtly, I know exactly what he wants.
My lips close around the thumb, my tongue caressing it as I start to suck. His breath hitches, and slowly—so painfully slowly—he withdraws his thumb from my mouth, pulling against my suction. Without warning, he pushes in again and repeats the cycle, simulating the sex act with his thumb penetrating my mouth.
His eyes lock on mine, his face moving in closer, and there’s this connection—so intense it’s physical—beyond where he’s lightly pumping his thumb into my mouth and dragging it out again. I adjust my jaw as he pushes in as deep as he can go and when he pulls out, my teeth scrape lightly against the length of his thumb.
Raw animal desire flames in those ocean-blue eyes. And I’m seared by their heat. Looking into them is like looking into the sun, but I can’t pull my gaze away. He’s captured me.
